


;; --> Words, words, words.

by Black



Category: Deus Ex (Video Games), Deus Ex: Human Revolution, Deus Ex: Mankind Divided
Genre: Drabbles, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-11-23 18:26:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11408034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black/pseuds/Black
Summary: One word inspired drabbles for Adam Jensen and David Sarif.





	1. Set One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smooshkin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smooshkin/gifts).



> I'm a slut for writing these.
> 
> I wrote Stargazing and then asked my lovely Sarif and writing partner, Smooshkin, for some more words to write short drabbles for. He did not at all disappoint with his choices. I had a lot of fun with these - I will be doing more c:

= * =

 **Milk** : Sarif waits for the coffee to brew.

he flexes his hands - painfully aware of them. aware of how they both thrum, hum. tremble in the slightest bit - how did he get here? The condo is quiet, dark, and somber. minimalist. his eyes catch all the black and he thinks it pretty. sleek. handsome -

… 

that ridiculous kid. the last time he had made coffee for Adam, he made the mistake of asking if he wanted milk in his. he smiles fondly recalling the disgruntled wrinkling of his face and wordless reach for whiskey.

ah.

he reaches up with his trembling, alloy hands and finds he’s crying. again. David swallows tight - choked up as he wraps the other around the single ceramic mug…

= * = 

 **Molten** : Everything is molten from his mouth; riddled down his chin and soaked through his jacket. gold. red. curled. curdled. he wonders if he’s dead. There’s a shimmering, a desperation in the limbo and he’s bobbing through airwaves, lulled frozen by the ocean.

Sarif, Sarif, oh, Sarif.  
Sarif, please.

Had you escaped?  
Had you lived?  

Nobody is coming, Adam.  
_I know_.

His chest aches and he coughs again, sputtering - the liquid luminescent on the water’s surface - passing jellyfish would be jealous of his beauty and he knows that David crafted only the best. the brightest. his blood was boiled gold - kingly and cold. Sarif sang him some sweet song of poster boy and -

he missed him.

how long has he been drifting? 

Where are you, Adam?  
Come back to me, Adam.

He squeezes his eyes shut as the saltwater bites into them - burning and bitter.

And open them again to a dark room -  
Aware again.  
Awake again.

...the royalty rushes hot and angry in his veins - Alive again.

= * =

 **Halcyon** : At first, Adam found himself missing the halcyon days of Detroit; Where she sang and laughed instead of sobbed - grey and dingey, no longer golden with the throb and thrive of her industry. She was pitiful now, a cornered thing. ripped apart and curled in on herself, fingers tearing at the skin of her knees.

He had thought her home; sought to protect her and all that had kept her alive. all that had kept her smiling. Prague was miserable - he was homesick.

And then India had welcomed home with open arms. David had caught him on the helipad and Adam couldn’t resist pulling him close, off the ground, and kissing him for the first time in nearly _two_ years. Warm and thundering, electric down his spine.

… 

 _I’m home_ , he thinks, far less sick and sullen than he had been - Detroit was never his to miss.

But Sarif, had been.

= * = 

 **Stargazing:** Adam had always loved stargazing.

Lying quiet outside under a spanning sky so vast he never thought he’d see it all. Something he could never tame. The uncertainty of it both frightened and thrilled him.

Little did he know that Sarif’s eyes would hold the entirety of it and more - a whole world pressed into his palms. Shouldered solar system and a network of stars - coupled tight with joined fingers and hearts.

= * =

 **Grease** : David’s noises are a beautiful thing - they sing straight through Adam and seep heavy into his stomach. scattering, sharp. blooming loud in his chest with the snap of hips on thighs. Sarif pulls a leg up and Adam takes the opportunity to nudge himself deeper, an augged hand on his thigh to hold it angled, wide.

“AhhhhmmmAdam,” David half muffles himself against the sheets as he pushes deeper, sharper. a little more forceful, the hand on him squeezing. roaming down. before pulling away.

Adam inhales - pupils blown wide at the sight of David around his cock and he reaches up to run his fingers against his forehead and through his hair - cringing at the slide of lube that he hadn’t been expecting. Ah. He probably picked it up from touching David’s thigh - something new he had wanted to try, supposed to last longer. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs and presses forward to both still for a moment and pin David down, wiping the offending hand on the sheets to rid himself of it. it smears like grease - he must make some sort of face because David is suddenly laughing, dropping the leg back down to stretch long again.

offering a smile and, “sorry.”

“I like the other stuff better,” he murmurs, hands slipping forward to find his hips again, “but i like hearing you _more_.”

the laughter stops as soon as he’s rocking forward again - lips finding the dip and roll of David’s shoulder, the back of his neck. all teeth, fucked full into the bedsheets.

= * = 

 **Opaline** : The mornings come easy - now. Warm in the Indian sunrise, and Adam is wrapped in white and gold. The heaviness has escaped him, no longer plagued by parasitic paradoxes - depression wrapped in the finest silks and secured coyly to his augs. weighted with wax, war.

Oh, how far he’s come.

He turns to further wrap his arm around David, bringing his alloy fingers up to curl softly against his cheek. Thumb coming to stroke just below his eyes. His lover sighs quietly through his nose and shifts to move back against him - though doesn’t wake. He only settles, content. The ghost of some smile on his lips.

The light creeps through the window to the side of them and it posses the floor in an early morning murder; the tile won’t remain cold for long. His lips catch the top of David’s ear and linger there for a moment, smiling at the sleepy rumble of a laugh it brings.

 David reaches back to squeeze Adam’s hip, the strength there for a moment before slowly devolving into a gentle stroke across his skin. The floor catches Opaline, muddled rainbow in the afterglow of an eight am kiss - shared in the still frame focus of adoration.

= * =


	2. Set Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damn Black back at it again for round 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to hell welcome to hell welcome to hell welc
> 
> My Sarif (Smooshkin) gave me some more really fuckin beautiful words and I am so god damn fucked up over these two. i'm dead. already dead. i hope you enjoy. Worship is my fave tbh.

= * =

**Lucent** : Haloed. orange. orange. yellow and red like limbo beyond them. Adam smiles and everything is lucent. David has to stop, has to stare. has to thank whatever god brought them back to life again and fished them from the ocean and 

he nearly drops the coffee cup he’d been cradling close, instead bringing it up to shakily take a drink and watch Adam stoop low to croon at his dog. to hold her face and his eyes are alight with life and love and David

can feel his burn and ache. sting with the threat of a million nightmares past in which he’s woken up alone. stiff sheets. white sheets. morgue cold and

Adam is the night sky - the moon swollen bright and the stars needling the dark. needling behind his ears, a festering crawl that near caves his throat and he chokes at the tender, worried touch of his midnight angel.  

  
= * =

**Ablaze** : Adam bites the back of his thigh and his back arches - the sweetest noise leaving him. His wrists are leashed, bound to the bed and he jerks them as Adam’s tongue _teases_ him and he’s ablaze with -

oh, god there’s a hand on his dick squeezing, now. he presses his face to the bed and tries to shift his legs...but it’s no use against winding, humming arms and a very determined lover wielding them. 

“A-Adam!” his thighs twitch and he jerks one at the curl of a tongue and moans _low_ , every nerve ending strung static and alive, “I ahh - please, s -” he chokes on the last word as fingers follow through,  

part and stretch. demand.

lips leave a blazing trail up his spine and there’s teeth in his neck and another finger added. twisted. a wet noise following the fourth and the heat bites in David’s neck. his cheeks. squeezing his eyes shut he breathes and 

lets the fire consume him.   
lets _Adam_ consume him.

  
= * =

**Balletic** : He has a gun heart.

Trigger happy and hungry - throbbing in time with the Indian sun and arching. arching. bridging worlds between perfection and persecution. Because gods and ghastly men that pile high with money and think it makeshift matrimony. 

mockery.

limbs balletic - balled and jointed. sewn with love and lingering. tucked tight into the seams and curled with fingers dipped soft in dreams and David’s mouth finds the inside of Adam’s thigh and his teeth find meat and metal and 

there’s no longer misery there. the shine no longer reminded Adam of ammo. the black was warm, ink. anchored. his bones woke with the shaking of his hips and 

David’s head is pressed to his chest - eyes widening at the thundering under alloy ribs. at the weaponized abandon of his wild soul.

he knew not to tame it.   
only to hold it.  

  
= * =

**Specter** : Adam had always haunted rooms. Something see through and subsequent - a specter of spaces that always paled people and pulled away. awful. aggressive; they’d glower and snarl. guns gathered in weeping arms and they’d not mourn the soul they shot. 

He couldn’t touch anything without passing through - a droning in his head or arms that would sing sweet to the sullen beasts, blessed with rabid intent to kill. corrosive. back to work, back to sleep. back to the open grave he had been digging in the sheets. 

twitching fingers and tattered, torn, tossed.  
the corner could never catch.

disappointment would pull it down and sink into the shower stall and contemplate the cure of it all and if the black in his skin was grounding or degrading. his maker had left him holy in the quiet hell of his own head. 

until he was back again - cornering him with concern and Adam curled at his touch and expected it to burn but

found it corporeal - warm and tangible. nothing sought him sad. nothing seeped through. too catatonic to recognize - he found home in a warm chest and a pair of lion’s eyes. 

= * =  
  


**Vision** : He’s blinded by Adam’s beauty. 

His fingers curl at the edges of some seam and he wants to pull and pull and pull but he’s living in the bliss of a ripple he never wants to wake from. his vision is fogged with metal feathers and majesty - flared and fixational. near fictional. shaking in the sheets and on the shore and he’s

toeing the edge of the tide. daring to touch. touch. touch his angel. steal his agony away and hold him close. his head to his heart - listening to it

bump, bump, bump and clatter under the careful hands of a mortal god. it’s a third eye lullaby and he’s lulled to vanity - veins and vices in the man he’s devoted his time to. his work to. 

his _life_ to. 

  
= * =

**Divine** : Adam starts again. 

His hands finds all the heavens written in his skin - divine, divine. a little too simple this time so he starts again. his teeth pull blood in all that’s holy - amen. nails fanning, brushing against David’s belly and his mouth is married to his thigh.

there’s hands in his hair and they’re clasped - fingers lacing as if to kneel and prayer and Adam finds everything kingly buried there. a strangled noise and he’s poised over his god and 

oh, he’s divine, divine - a little louder this time and Adam starts again. scriptures and scattering, he chases the heat between his legs and rolls his tongue along skin that he knows empires would envy. to touch, to feel him jerk and gasp and absolve him of his sins and

Adam starts again.

hexed. held in high regards and the altar calls for his second coming and his back is rigid with regard. spanning. hands sliding up his chest, outstretched and he’s begging for fortune to smile upon and bless his swelling heart.

He strings the stars under his fingers and fixates upon the placement down his spine and oh, he’s divine, divine. constellations gasped to the ceiling, vision dotted with the writhing sky. He’s not yet found reason to ruminate, remember, repent and

David arches as Adam starts again.


End file.
